


Expect the Unexpected

by KahtyaSofia



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Military, One Shot, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:05:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/KahtyaSofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes (missing scenes) that give some subtle insight into the pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expect the Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> This is a practice fic. I wrote it to try to find my GK 'voice' and the 'voices' of Brad and Nate. I have no GK beta so it's unbeta'd and all con crit is welcomed and appreciated. I don't like this at all and although I'll write the smut for these two, that will probably be the extent of my foray into writing GK fic.

Being ready for the unexpected and adapting to it was part and parcel of being a Recon Marine. Still, if Nate had given it any thought, getting lit up on what passed for a road, in broad daylight, still several clicks out from their objective wouldn't have scored as a likely possibility

If anyone felt the same level of surprise as Nate, they didn't show it any more than he did. He watched for only seconds while his men leapt from their victors to land on the far side of the berm, armed and ready to fight.

Nate launched himself from his victor when he was sure his men understood the situation and were on the move. When he landed, he was already reaching toward Gunny for the radio. By the time he had Scarface on the hook, his men were all shouting back and forth about the Zeus, and he understood what he needed to do.

The part of his mind that wasn't required to identify the grid for Scarface was taking in the status of his men and finally, came to rest on thoughts of Brad. He felt a stab of panic that he refused to indulge that maybe his TL hadn't made it safely from his Humvee. Then he heard the Sergeant's unmistakable voice shouting for Ray to get out of the vehicle.

Organized chaos reigned in their ranks as his Marine's fired on the position they had identified as housing the Zeus. Orders, instructions and swearing rolled up and down the ranks with each ordinance that landed around them or sailed past them. Nate noted that Brad was now shouting for Trambley to get down out of the line of fire.

He was shouting into the hook now, giving Scarface the requisite info when he caught sight of the too familiar form of Sgt. Colbert climbing the berm and breaking cover to pull Trambley out of harm's way. His gut twisted at the sight, willing Brad to get back down under cover. His heart rose to his throat when Brad only moved behind the fender of his victor and raised his weapon in the direction of the Zeus.

Nate's rational brain brought down the wrath of Scarface while that deeper part of himself cursed Brad for the risk he took guiding Walt's assault with the big gun. It was ballsy and it was fucking good work but until the moment the chopper actually took out the Zeus, Nate lived in fear of seeing Brad's tall, lean frame crashing lifelessly down the berm.

***

That night, when the after action reports were complete and business with his teams concluded, Nate looked Brad in the eyes and said, "Sergeant, a word?"

"Yes, sir." Brad said easily and fell into step beside him as Nate led the way into the dark.

Gunny followed slightly behind them but his course took him in a direction apart. His understanding of situations was uncanny; had Lt. Fick needed a private word with Sgt. Colbert, Gunny would have been right at Nate's shoulder. Tonight he would stand apart and run interference while Nate and Brad spoke in private.

When they had passed onto the far side of Nate's victor he turned on Brad and pinned him against the side of the truck. Brad's expression ran through surprise to confusion before he schooled his features in true Iceman fashion. Nate pressed hard against him, pinning the larger man hard against the unyielding metal and leaned in closely. Nate's lips hovered just over the edge of Brad's jaw and he whispered, low and harsh.

"Do not take unnecessary risks with your well being, Sergeant," he hissed, emphasizing his words with a sharp snap of his hips against Brad's.

Nate was trying to make a point but as always, any physical contact with Brad brought his cock to instant attention. He knew Brad could feel it growing against his own hip and Nate felt the subtle answering return of pressure. This close to Brad, Nate could see his exhaustion and the beard stubble on his chin. On Brad's skin he could smell sweat and sand and many other things to unpleasant to contemplate but beneath it all was the unmistakable scene of Brad himself. Nate felt himself grow to full hardness pressed against Brad's body.

"It would seem a clarification of your order is required, sir," the calm tenor of Brad's voice belied the steel of his gaze. Even in the dark night of the Iraqi desert, Nate could see the utter pale blue that were Brad's eyes. He loved the feel of Brad's low voice resonating through both of their bodies.

"You broke cover to get Trambley out of the line of fire but when you should have gotten back down behind the berm you kept your head up and over the hood of your victor." Nate's blood froze in his veins as he gave voice to his fears from earlier that day.

"In the future I'm to bypass tactical advantages, fail to engage the enemy in battle, and hide like a fucking pussy?" Brad's voice held all the ice indicative of his nickname.

"You're my Team Leader. The men respect you above anyone else in this company I can't afford the chaos any unnecessary harm to you would instigate." Nate struggled to contain the tremor that ran through his body, knowing it would be too easily construed as fear, rather than the righteous anger it was.

Brad regarded him for a long, silent moment. His gaze was inscrutable, but Nate thought he might have felt the tension drain from his body before he finally spoke. "Due respect, sir," Brad's voice was just above a whisper, "the men wouldn't respect me for long if I didn't lead by example."

Nate didn't want Brad to be right. He wasn't ready to let go of his anger born of his concern. Nor was Nate ready to admit why his reaction to said concern was so extreme.

"Keep your head down, Sgt. Colbert." Nate said through gritted teeth. His eyes dropped to Brad's full lower lip and he very nearly leaned in to taste it.

"Evening, Rudy," Gunny Wynn's voice carried to them on the desert air. Nate immediately stepped away from Brad's body. Fuck. He did his best to adjust himself and saw Brad do the same.

"Evening, Gunny," Rudy replied with his characteristic cheerfulness, "I was told Sgt. Colbert came this way."

They exchanged a brief heated look that said this discussion was not over before Nate and Brad stepped around the rear of the truck and back into the open.

The part of Nate's brain that was still Lt. Fick quickly engaged, "Please convey to Walt my appreciation of his excellent work on the gun today, Sergeant."

"I will, sir," Brad answered quickly, and kept walking even as Nate stopped, "have a good evening."

Nate nodded his dismissal and hoped Gunny didn't hear the deep sigh he released.

"Can I help you, Rudy?" Brad said with ease, a slight inclination of his head in Gunny Wynn's direction before walking off into the night deep in consultation with Sgt. Reyes.

***

They were in hell. Somewhere, Cpl. Person had led them off the road to the bridge and they had crossed the river Styx. They'd been ambushed, their victors were log-jammed in the chaos, and he was in very real danger of losing all of his men. Brad's barely audible whisper on the comms of "There are men in the trees" had heralded the arrival of hell.

A chill ran down Nate's spine as the tone of Brad's voice came as near to panic as the Iceman's ever would. He had to do something. He had to get his men to safety. He had to get Brad out of the line of fire. He was no more than a sitting duck, pinned down in his victor at the very point of this fiasco.

Nate barked his order to Gunny to turn the truck around and wait for his return, then he jumped out and ran down the line of victors issuing clear, concise orders for getting the fuck out of there. Once his men had a decisive idea of what to do, it took short moments for them all to reach safety.

***

It was finally quiet. His men were settling into their graves.

Brad emerged from the dark with a rigid posture and a long stride like some fucking Norse god of legend. Nate's heart kicked up and his mouth ran dry at the glorious sight.

"Evening, Brad," Gunny greeted.

"Evening, Gunny." Brad returned, but his eyes were only for Nate, "A word, LT?"

"Certainly, Brad." He turned and led the way to the far side of his victor, aware that Gunny was not following.

Just as Nate turned to ask what he could do for Brad this evening, he found himself unceremoniously shoved up against the side of his truck. He was pinned against the hard metal by the equally hard body of his Team Leader.

"Do not take unnecessary risks with your life, sir." Brad's lips were so close to the shell of Nate's ear that he felt the hot breath of the words ghost over his skin. He shivered in response.

"Brad…" he began, only to be abruptly interrupted.

"You are the company commander and you should have stayed in your victor." Brad's words mingled with his own of days earlier and echoed through his head.

"The safety of my men…" again Nate didn't get very far in his argument.

"Gunny Wynn could have carried out your instructions." Brad emphasized his words with a hard thrust of his hips and Nate lost his breath. "You're our Lieutenant, the leader we have the most faith in and no one can afford the chaos a preventable injury to you would plunge us into."

The portion of Nate's brain that was still Lt. Fick understood Brad's words but the part of him that was linked to his cock pushed back against Brad's hips.

"Nate," Gunny's voice called softly from the darkness, "Hitman Actual is on the hook for Hitman Two Actual."

"On my way, Gunny." Nate responded, surprised at just how steady his voice was.

Brad stepped back and released him from their confrontation. He walked languidly around the rear of the truck as he spoke, "Thank you for your time, LT."

"Anytime, Sergeant," he responded as he reached for the hook from Gunny.

"Evening, Mike." Brad said as he sauntered away.

"Evening, Brad."

***

Nate knelt at Walt's side to emphasize the need for the after action report. He reassured the Marine there would be no repercussions from the incident at the roadblock. It really had been an unfortunate result of good Marines trying to find a better way to accomplish an objective.

He was more than aware that Brad struggled with a double burden. Having spearheaded the attempts with the smoke grenade at the roadblock, he shouldered the burden of the results of that command and his part in it. He was a good leader and he felt the guilt of his treatment of Walt in the first blush of reaction. Nate watched Brad struggle to deal with his own tumultuous reactions at the same time he did what he could to look after Walt, try to draw him out and integrate him back into the team.

And still he had time to wonder at this ability he and Brad had developed to have entire conversations with a look alone. Nate had no idea how or when they'd managed it, but there it was. Even when they were exchanging words out loud, they were still having entirely separate conversations with nothing more than their eyes.

And Nate had never seen Brad's eyes more tired, or with larger bags. They were still clear and blue and sharp, but very, very tired.

***

Nate found Brad leaning against the grill of his Humvee. Their eyes met long before they were close enough to speak.

Cognizant of Person asleep in the driver's seat of the victor, Nate kept his voice low, "Heard you got to hold a baby today." He managed to keep his expression neutral; "I never took you for 'Uncle Brad'."

"Due respect, sir," Brad said evenly, eyes sparkling yet annoyed at the same time, "fuck you."

Nate allowed himself a smile and a chuckle, "Promises, promises," he whispered as he leaned against the grill of the Humvee next to Brad's lean form.

"You name the time and place," came the reply so faint, Nate could pretend he hadn't heard it.

He had no intention of pretending he hadn't.

***

All stations, be advised: Sgt. Colbert is wings level. Can someone clear him hot?

Hot completely understates the charms of Sgt. Colbert. Nate thought idly and then suddenly brought himself up short. Thoughts like that would only serve to distract him from the job at hand. Then he found he just had to find out what that mystery radio broadcast had been about.

Easing around the side of a victor, Nate admitted to himself that 'hot' didn't cover it. The sight of a half-naked Brad Colbert did uncomfortable things to the fit of Nate's trousers.

***

He couldn't see what was going on with Brad and his men but whatever it was, spirits sounded high. So did Brad's voice, for that matter. Nate wondered what he'd have to do, where he'd have to touch to get Brad to make noises in that high tone of voice.

He decided it was going on his 'Brad Colbert List of To-Do's'.

***

Brad never called for Actual on the comms. He was always perfectly satisfied to simply call for Hitman Two and take Gunny Wynn's transmissions as if they were Nate's own.

He knew Brad was in the shit when his steady but stressed voice carried over the radio with the words "Two Actual this is Two One. Who the fuck is shooting at us?"

The extended time it took Brad to answer his own "Two One Actual, what's your status?" was one of the longest periods in Nate's life. It wasn't until much later he realized his question had actually been about Brad's own personal welfare and he hoped no one else on comms had realized that fact.

***

"You disloyal motherfucker." Brad said as he quietly walked up behind Nate. As usual, his pulse kicked up he stopped breathing all together. He could feel Brad behind him, beside him, as they were touching.

"Excuse me, Sergeant?" Nate asked, knowing this was a joke he should be getting.

"I saw you kissing that indigenous male citizen earlier today." Brad came to a stop at his side. "If I needed to do more to meet your needs, you should have told me." He paused for several beats before adding, "Sir."

The title was part taunt and part affection and Nate felt it in his cock.

***

"I know you're angry, Brad but I have to tell you I think it's ill-advised." Nate worried that Brad trying to take on Dave, no matter how justified, would end in disaster. For Brad.

It seemed Brad hadn't come to him for advice but rather to vent as he continued on as if Nate hadn't spoken. Nate took the opportunity to just watch Brad as he talked. So much going on in that sharp mind and when they were alone, it all played out through his pale blue eyes.

"He stopped me in the middle of the camp �" he touched me, Nate. He touched me. �" And tried to justify himself. What kind of a Company Commander would need to justify himself to a Sergeant?"

Nate was fairly certain that Dave touching Brad was the greater offense in Brad's eyes. Then the meaning behind Brad's complaint registered with Nate.

"Are you serious, Brad?"

"Yes, Nate. Deadly."

"Dave knows the influence you carry with the men, even those outside your own platoon." He thought about it for several seconds, "Hell, Brad, even I need your support and approval."

"Is that all you need from me?" Brad asked quietly.

Nate knew what Brad was asking. He knew exactly what Brad was asking.

"No. But I take it when it's all I can get."


End file.
